Visions of Serenity
by Aoife129
Summary: Part 2 of the Ray of Light Trilogy


Ray of Light Pt. 2: Visions of Serenity

**I'm Thinkin' Whitefall, Maybe Talk to Patience**

Saoirse squinted up at the old woman on the horse before them. She was regal, accomplished, the matriarch of her faction. She reminded Saoirse of her grandmother. "What are you tryin' ta pull, Boy?"

"Nothin', Patience. Just wantin' ta close this deal." Mal stood with his arms akimbo, trying to look innocent before the back-moon queen. So far this deal had gone smoother than any he could remember with Patience. He hated dealing with the old woman; she never paid him enough, and she always gave him a hard time. Sometimes he was tempted to just turn around and sell to someone else . . . or he would be if he wasn't afraid she'd shoot him in the back as he walked away. If only he had some better contacts to sell to. Oh well. The life he led didn't really allow him to associate with the company he'd prefer.

"You ain't foolin' me, Mal. I know there's somethin' wrong with those goods."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Patience; there's nothin' wrong with 'em."

"Like hell, there ain't."

"You're right, Ma'am." Saoirse stepped forward, surprising everyone. "There is somethin' wrong with 'em." Mal shot a look of annoyance that hinted terror at the young girl, but she continued, undaunted. "If you wanna get technical, they're stolen. But we didn' steal anythin' that didn' beg ta be stolen."

Patience narrowed her eyes at the girl. "How d'ya figure?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Ma'am, Malcolm here i'n't exactly the brightest star in the sky." Mal's annoyance turned to offense. "But it was him came up with the plan ta secure these items. I wa'n't gonna say anythin', but a four year old coulda come up with a better way ta get his hands on 'em. So that tells me whoever these belonged to wa'n't lookin' ta hold onto 'em."

The old woman's mouth curled into a smile. "My word, Mal, where ya been hidin' this one? She's smarter than the lot 'a ya."

"Gets it from her mama," he returned, finally understanding what Saoirse was doing. "Or maybe it just skips a generation."

She sat for a moment thinking and finally said, "Alright, we'll take 'em." She nodded to the young man on the horse next to her, and he threw a pouch down to Mal. "Now get the hell off my moon before I decide that little girl's not so charming. You've already been here too long." Mal caught the bag, nodded, then turned and laid a hand on Saoirse's shoulder, guiding her in the direction of the ship.

As they stepped into the cargo bay, they found Zoë waiting for them. Mal didn't say anything, he simply tossed her the pouch of coins and headed up to the cockpit. "We have to go," Saoirse explained. Zoë nodded and pushed the button to close the airlock.

The stairs rattled horribly as Mal took them two at a time. The racket meant that Wash was less than surprised when he emerged from them. "What's going on, Boss?"

"We gotta move." He hurried over to the monitor and immediately began looking through coordinates. "Here," he pointed. "ThreeHills. That'll be safe 'til we can get our bearings and head out properly."

"What's the rush?" Wash asked, confused.

"Saoirse managed to charm the old hag, but we don't get out of here fast-like, she might decide she got a raw deal and come after us." He headed out the other door as Wash flipped the three initiation switches and began to lift off.

Just outside the door of the passenger dorm that Saoirse was using, Mal could hear Kaylee babbling. "You know, if you're gonna stay here, you should share my room. I mean, you can stay here if you want, but I just thought maybe you'd wanna be closer to the rest of us, y'know? It's not very big, but I don't mind. And I bet we could get Cap'n to build another bunk in there for us."

"Um, sure," came Saoirse's more tentative voice. "I mean, if you don' mind; 'at'd be nice, y'know? Not feelin' like I'm a leper all the way out here."

"You girls better be sure about that," Mal interrupted, stepping through the doorway, thumbs hooked in his suspenders. "'Cause I'm not buildin' an extra bunk in that room just to tear it down again when y'all decide you can't stand each other in two months."

Kaylee squeezed Saoirse's hands and gushed, "I'll go move my stuff around." She stopped briefly to lay a kiss on Mal's cheek, then ran for her room.

"Are the rest of 'em gonna be like that when they hear I'm stayin'?" Saoirse asked her recently proven father.

"'Fraid not, Darlin'. Nothin' short of offerin' Jayne favors is prob'ly gonna bring him around." He sat down on the bed next to her and leaned back on his hands. She sighed and lay down, using Mal's lap as a pillow. He froze for a second; he hadn't been in this position in quite a while. He'd been fairly affectionate with Kaylee since she'd signed on, but this girl was actually _his_. She had no other family anywhere else in the 'Verse to go home to if things didn't work out here. He wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with that. But then he remembered the day she was born, the day his mama had placed a blanket-full of little blond squirming child in his arms. He'd almost cried that day. When he'd looked into those blue eyes, he'd made her a promise. _Always. No matter what._ Cautiously, he sat up and lifted his left hand to set it on her head. He let it linger for a moment, but then patted her shoulder and moved to stand. "Come on, I gotta go talk ta the crew." He'd waved Wash while they were on Whitefall to tell everyone about the results of the blood test, but now they needed to come up with a plan for what they were going to do next, how they were going to spend the money they'd gotten from Patience, where they were going to go from here.

**Man of Honor in a Den of Thieves**

Mal hadn't been entirely keen on bringing Saoirse along for this. He'd only taken her with him to the deal with Patience because he'd needed her to get the blood test done. But the girl insisted that she knew of a cantina where they might find someone who would be able to give them a job. He didn't like the look of this place, and he certainly didn't like that Béibhinn had brought their daughter here. And it must have been more than once because Saoirse had maneuvered through the streets like she'd grown up here. He was grateful that this place was fairly noisy; it would make discussing business much easier, especially if it was of a less than legal nature. But there was a reason Jayne had come with them and Zoë had stayed on the ship. Though he would never deny that Zoë could handle herself better than most men, he needed his first mate guarding the ship against thieves (he almost had to smile at the irony), because he also knew that Kaylee couldn't. So here they were, Jayne, himself and his daughter, standing at the entrance of a wretched-looking cave. Saoirse stood glancing over the crowd for a second then motioned for the men to follow and started walking. Dodging a punch here and a flying drink there, the trio headed toward one side of the bar.

Without hesitation, Saoirse hopped up onto one of the stools and called for the bartender. "Hey, Jin, you got a minute?"

"Niamh? Is that really you, Nian Qing De?" The short brown man looked enthralled to see her. He waddled over and took her hands warmly. "I thought for sure the Alliance got you by now."

"Who me?" she replied with a smile. "Ain't no power in the 'Verse can stop me." Mal marvelled at how cool the young girl was with all the action surrounding her. She'd have made a good soldier in the war.

"So what are you doing back here then?" Jin asked.

"Joined the crew of a boat," she answered, purposefully not giving any details. "Lookin' fer work. Is Shun here ta-night?"

"Sure is." He lifted his chin to gesture to a dark corner of the room, and she turned to look. At a round table, five men of obvious Ancient Asian decent sat smoking pipes and arguing in Chinese. "Just made a deal with Geffin Martok too from what I hear."

"He lookin' fer a transport?"

"Just might be," he shrugged. "Now'd be a good time to go talk to him." She nodded, then gave the man a wide smile.

"It 'as good to see ya, Old Friend."

"You as well, Little One." He pulled both of her hands to his mouth and kissed them before letting her go. She quickly hopped back down and grabbed Mal's hand, pulling him in the direction of the table. Saoirse didn't understand a word of what was being said as they approached the arguing men, but by the looks on their faces, she could tell it wasn't entirely serious.

"How's it runnin', Shun?"

The man directly in the middle looked up at her with wonder, and his mouth pulled itself into a small smile. "Well, Niamh," he replied. "Very well; and you?"

"Oh, y'know. I'm still alive," she offered with a shrug.

"Yes, I heard about your mother. I am very sorry."

"Thank you." She dipped her chin in gratitude. "I's wonderin' if ya might be willin' to help me out a bit." Though she had to speak somewhat loudly to make herself heard, the inflection in her voice was akin to whispering in someone's ear.

"What is that?"

"This is Cap'n Mal Reynolds," she introduced. "I'm ridin' on his boat now, and I need ta pay him 'r he's gonna send me on m' way." The statement was the farthest it could possibly be from the truth, but Mal allowed it, understanding that just like with Patience, this girl probably had an angle. "So I told 'im I'd get 'em some work. Any possibility you're needin' hands fer a job?"

He thought for a second, then nodded, deciding he would tell her about the opportunity. "Recently, I have sold twenty crates of goods to the man Geffin Martok. But he is on Highgate."

"Sounds like you have a problem we might be able to help you with," Mal added. He quickly looked around, then grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to the table. To Jayne he whispered, "Keep an eye on her," and then sat down to discuss terms with Shun. At least Jayne had the decency to turn around before he grumbled so that he didn't make his captain look bad. But he was obviously less than happy when he set a hand on Saoirse's shoulder and pushed her back in the direction from which they'd come.

Not three feet from Mal's turned back, he removed his hand and made a bee line to go get a drink. This girl had known the bartender and the guy Mal was now talking to, so she obviously knew her way around the place, right? She ought to know how to find Jayne easily enough. And she did, or would have if she hadn't gotten caught in the center of an argument. Two fairly large men yelled back and forth at each other incomprehensibly. Besides the noise level of the room, both men were very drunk, so their slurred words didn't do much to help either explain his position. The tension between them was rising, as was Saoirse's anxiety level; though she pushed her hardest, no one would let her pass. She was stuck between them.

They started to scuffle, sweeping her up in it and throwing her into the back of a very surprised man in a blue jacket. He turned around and pushed her off of him, sending her back into the middle of the fray. She finally found her feet and stood upright just in time to see one of the men pull a gun from his coat and squeeze the trigger. It took a minute for her to feel anything. At first, her mind didn't register that the gun had done anything at all. The crack of the shot had barely sounded, and hadn't echoed because of the volume of people insulating the room. She froze, her legs suddenly cemented to the floor. A fire slowly started in her belly, working its way up to her chest. She took a few deep breaths and ground her teeth. She had to get to someone she knew. Step after agonizing step, she headed toward the bar. Her vision blurred; she reached out in front of her more to find out what was there than to get anyone's attention. But her fingers happened to graze his sleeve, and her hand closed around his arm as her legs buckled beneath her.

Jayne's eyes went wide, barely able to believe what was happening. The girl's hand gripped his arm, silently begging him to help her. Her face radiated pain, and her voice got caught in her throat. He stood quickly, his pulse racing and his breath shortening. _Merciful Buddha, what did I do?_ His muscles sprang into action before his brain could recognize what they were doing. Her 130 pounds were as light as a cherry blossom as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. Pushing bodies out of the way, he ran for the exit. All he knew was that he had to get her out of here. Heart pounding in his ears, he held her as close to his chest as he could, willing her to live as he raced through the streets and back to the ship.

Up the ramp and into the cargo hold, he continued into the infirmary. "Zoë!" He laid her down on the cot and held her face in his hands, trying to get her to look at him. But her eyes were far away. "You gotta hang on, Little One." He turned back to toward the door and bellowed, "Zoë!" A small clatter of metal stairs later, and the black woman poked her head in through the doorway.

"Wo de tian, a; what happened?" She rushed in and immediately started taking off the girl's coat.

"I just took my eyes off her for a second, I swear."

"Where's Cap'n?" Her hands worked like mad, ripping Saoirse's shirt enough to get at the wound.

"Don't know. I's a bit more worried about this'un." He accepted the strip of blood-stained shirt and dropped it to the floor. Then he stood watching helplessly as Zoë pulled a lamp over to get a better look at the wound. Without words, she grabbed Jayne's hand and placed it on the hole, pressing down to indicate that she wanted him to apply pressure. Then she furiously pulled open drawers and cabinets looking for the tools she needed. A pair of tweezers in hand, she shoved Jayne's hand away and began picking at the wound. She dug around for a few seconds, before finally retracting a mushroom-shaped slug covered in red liquid. Bullet and tweezers fell to the floor as she immediately grabbed for bandages. She stuffed the wound full of the cotton gauze and wrapped more snugly around the girl's waist.

"There, that should do for now, but we're gonna need to tell the Cap'n."

"Lao tian ye." Jayne's eyes held a look of shock that told Zoë he was pretty much going to be useless right now.

"You know what? I'll go get him." She wasn't going to let Jayne screw this up too. The girl might end up paying for it. "Make sure she keeps breathing." Zoë turned and hurried out the door and to the street.

Mal had been alerted by the commotion--most of the bar had--and saw Jayne speed out the door carrying something. His heart dropped to the floor, but he showed no signs of it as he turned back around, gave Shun a schmoozing smile and shook the man's hand. His pace back to the street was that of an unworried man, but the second the door closed behind him, he took off running. He nearly shot right past Zoë, but the woman reached out a hand and spun him off course. He shouted an obscenity before realizing who had grabbed at him. "She's alive," Zoë assured. Mal nodded gratefully to her and the pair jogged together back to the ship. As they entered the cargo bay doors, they found Kaylee sitting on the landing above the door to the infirmary. She was wringing her hands and swinging her feet. "Don't worry, Little One," Zoë said up to her. "We saw a lot worse in the war." Kaylee's worried eyes didn't look as though they believed her, but the girl nodded nonetheless. Wash stood in the doorway watching Jayne and Saoirse inside.

The large dark man had a hold of the small blond girl's hand and was pleading with her. "Please, please don't die on me."

"Jayne, back off. I need to get in there." Zoë pulled a needle and thread from the counter where she'd set it and sat down on a stool. She wheeled over next to Saoirse and pulled the gauze from the girl's stomach. Shooting people was more Zoë's specialty, but she couldn't trust any of these oafs to fix the wound. So she slid the needle through Saoirse's skin and began slowly patching the hole as though she were sewing a patch on a uniform. It wasn't the best set of stitches she'd ever seen, but it would do its job. When she was finished, she wiped the blood away with a clean rag and added some more gauze and a bandage. The only thing to do now was hope.

Jayne sat looking at the young girl who lay asleep before him. He kept internally punching himself in the face. How could he have been that stupid? Yeah, she had known where she was, but she was still just a girl. She couldn't have protected herself from that. But he could have. If he had watched her like the captain asked him to, he would have had her out of the way--out of danger--faster than you could say "Hun dan." At least she was still alive. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled to the side, but her chest still rose and fell ever so slightly, telling him she was still breathing. It was here that Mal found him. "Jayne, go get some sleep. She'll still be here in six hours."

Jayne's eyes didn't leave Saoirse. "I feel awful, Cap. It shouldn't oughta've happened."

"It was an accident, Jayne. She knows that. Now do yourself a favor, and go sleep for a while."

"No offense, Cap, but I don't exactly feel like I should be doin' myself any favors right now." He still wouldn't look at the other man. Saoirse's small hand nearly disappeared within his giant meat hooks.

"Alright look, I'm your _captain_, and I'm _her_ father. So right now, I'm telling you to _go sleep_." Jayne finally matched Mal's gaze, and he sat for a minute before finally conceding. The big man stood and made his way toward the door, dragging his feet because he didn't want to leave. Mal sat down on the stool and absorbed the position that Jayne had held.

**Jayne, Your Mouth Is Talking**

Saoirse opened her eyes to find Jayne asleep in the chair next to her. His hand still held hers, now slightly sweaty from not having moved for a while. She had no idea how long she'd slept. Her stomach still hurt a little, but it was a dull ache now. And the skin was starting to itch a little. That was a good sign; it meant she was healing. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she squeezed Jayne's hand, making him jolt awake.

"Sorry," she breathed. "I didn' mean to startle ya."

"What're you apologizin' for?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. "It's me oughta be apologizin' to you."

"Were you the one 'at shot me?" she asked, knowing he wasn't.

"No," he affirmed, shaking his head.

"Then you've got nothin' ta apologize fer," she stated simply. She tried to sit up a little farther and winced, grabbing her stitches. Jayne was on his feet in a second, one hand on her back, the other hovering over her wound. She couldn't help but let out a pained laugh. Laying her hand on his arm, she added, "It's alright, Jayne. I'm not gonna break. I'm just gonna be a lit'le sore fer a while." He nodded solemnly and removed his hands slightly, but still spotted her as she readjusted her sitting position.

"If there's anything you need, you let me know."

"Talk to me."

"What?"

"_Talk_ to me." She clenched her jaw against the pain in her gut.

"I ain't never been much good with words," he objected.

"Clearly," she responded. "But I need somethin' ta distract me, so tell me a story 'r something."

"Um . . ." Jayne didn't really know what to say, where to start. "Well, there was this once. I was on Higgins Moon, city called Canton. One 'a the ugliest places you ever saw. Main export is mud, so the whole place is covered with it. But they got some 'a the best alcohol you ever tasted in yer life. They call it Mudder's Milk, on a count 'a the people there are called mudders. Well, me an' Stitch, we knocked over the Magistrate's place. Made out like gorram princes. Problem was, there was so much there, our skiff was too heavy . . ."

The sound of his voice relaxed Saoirse enough that she could forget about her stomach. This became a habit over the following days. Though the pain eased over time, Saoirse enjoyed the human contact; it helped her to feel less isolated, less like a leper. Every so often, Kaylee and Wash came to visit her too, introducing her to various card games to pass the time. And Mal always ate his meals with her, absorbing stories of Saoirse's experiences on the ranch as eagerly as she did his from the war. He didn't talk much about her mother, but she didn't mind. She'd just as soon _not_ know what Béibhinn had been like; that way she didn't have to miss knowing the person her mother had once been.

About a week after the stitches had gone in, they were ready to come out. Saoirse wasn't looking forward to this part. She lay back on the table trying to relax. The bright light put spots in her vision, but she knew that everyone on the crew stood in various places around the room--all except Wash anyway; he was stuck flying the ship for now. But he had promised to come see her later. Zoë was all prepped and ready, vinyl gloves on and scissors in hand. One of her hands was clasped in Mal's while the other held up her shirt for Zoë. The black woman looked at her, anxious to get it over with. "You're sure you don't want me to numb it, Little One?"

"No, just do it." Saoirse took a deep breath and clenched her teeth as Zoë began snipping through the stitches that had held her stomach together while it healed. With each thread that came out, Saoirse squeezed Mal's hand. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it was an odd feeling that pinched slightly and surprised her each time it happened. When it was finished, Zoë wiped the spot down with Iodine.

"You did good, Iníon." Mal smoothed Saoirse's hair back and kissed her forehead. He'd gotten used to the idea of Saoirse being his child, and showed her as much by calling her "daughter" in the language he'd helped to teach her so many years ago.

"I'd be much obliged if you could avoid any more of these in the future." Zoë pulled the gloves from her hands and threw them in a garbage can.

"I'll try," Saoirse promised.

"I still want you to stay in bed for a while," Zoë warned. "I don't like the look of that, and I don't think you should be straining it just yet." Saoirse moaned her dissent but nodded.


End file.
